We all Have our Scars
by shadowcatanaya
Summary: Cato Hawk is in his senior year in High School. Everything goes perfectly for him. Star Quarterback, Captain of the Baseball, Softball, Football, and Basketball teams. He's the nerdy jock that has every one swooning for him, yet he chooses Gale Hawthorne. But everyone has footprints, and sometimes, the footprints are in the wrong place. Will change to M later


Scars

Summary: Cato Hawk is in his senior year in High School. Everything goes perfectly for him. Star Quarterback, Captain of the Baseball, Softball, Football, and Basketball teams. He's the nerdy jock that has all every one swooning for him, yet he chooses the quiet, lonely, Gale Hawthorne. But everyone has footprints, and sometimes, the footprints are in the wrong place.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games Trilogy.

A/N: I probably should stop writing new fanfics before I've finished other's shouldn't I? Anyways, this is all AU so there will be many new things. Like characters, settings, locations, etc. Also, I don't want this story to be rushed so don't expect any _good things_ between Gale and Cato until chapter 4 or 5.

Chapter 1: Did I say something Stupid?

_Did I say something Stupid?_

The car blasts with music as I drive to school. 'We are Young' by Fun. is currently playing, it's such a stupid song. I guess that's the kind of thing that comes with living in a stupid Town. I mean, who names a town 'The Districts, and Nations of Panem'? I cant wait to finish this year, and get my own place. Maybe Paris, it's probably a nice place. Yeah, maybe I'll move to Paris. Wait, doesn't that mean I'll have to learn French? I hate learning! Just because I'm currently set to Valedictorian doesn't mean I enjoy it. It just means that I'm extremely smart. Besides, it doesn't really fit my status. I keep my reputation in check everyday. I am Cato Hawk, the Star Quarterback, Captain of the Baseball, Softball, Football, and Basketball team, not to mention the biggest Man Whore of the school. I don't mind it though. Smart doesn't really mix well with these things.

I realize I've pulled up to the school when the music is over, and I hear a tap on my window. Shit! Glimmer's already trying to get with me. Will she ever get it? _I don't like her_. I'm sure she understands. She's set to second runner up for Valedictorian of the school. It's me, than a boy whose name always escapes me. Rosebush? Harpone? Rosethorn? I don't know.

"Heeey, Cato. Miss me?" her voice is so annoying. It's so bubbly, and cheerful. She's from Street One. They have the weirdest people there. Weird names, style, hair colors, unnatural skin color. You name it. They are only happy with second best, next to the citizens of Capitol Street. I know a girl from there who goes by the name Cashmere. Who names their daughter Cashmere? Last time I checked, Cashmere was the soft wool from a Himalayan goat.

"Hey, Glimmer. Why don't you _shimmer_ away from me? It'd be much better for both of us," I say coldly, snapping the collar of my shirt for an extra effect.

"Okaay, Cato. But one day you'll realize I'm the one you've wanted all your life. Better hurry up, before I leave with another Prince." Gosh, she's so childish. I don't know how anyone can stand her. My friend Marvel seems to get along well enough with her. But then again, he's always staring at her tits.

It makes me wonder, why don't I find her tits interesting? I mean, they are big, and round. I don't know, I never found them interesting. What's so special about them? Does the fact that only women have them make a difference?

I walk into the school, and up to the second floor. I live in Street Two, so most of my classes are in the second floor. Except for Astronomy, Weapon Engineering and Gym, they're on the Thirteenth floor.

25,43,19. I input my locker combination. It's so easy to remember. I cant wait until I'm 19. 25 is the legal drinking age here in Panem. And I hope that by the time I'm 43 I'll have my dream car. A generation 27 Chevy Camarro, white with black racing stripes.

"Hey, Cato," I hear Clove say. I close my locker halfway to greet her, then turn back to it. "Having a bad morning?"

"Clove, I have a fucking headache, can we limit the talking for today?" I say nicely, but adding that oomph so she knows better.

"Fine by me," she says slamming her locker, and walking to Algebra 3. I have Advanced Third Algebra, but our classroom is in the same place, due to me and Gloss being the only ones in the class. We use one quarter of the classroom, and the Algebra 3 student use the rest of it.

The bell rings, and I run into the classroom, silently trying to sneak by Mr. Brutus, the teacher of both classes. I am successful until my bag falls a bit too loud into my chair.

"Mister Hawk, thank you for blessing our class by joining us. You know the drill, my office at 4:30. Now, since you're the only one standing, can you answer my question of the day?" he asks.

I look up at the back whiteboard, and find the question: Evaluate the expression 9! Over 5!(8-4)!.

"Um… I'm not sure how reliable my guess is, being that I'm doing it off the top of my head, but I think the answer is 126. Yes, 126, I'm positive," I say calmly, nodding my head.

"Oh, you're pretty sure are you?" Mr. Brutus challenges me. He grabs a sheet of paper, but I remain confident. I did the math in my head. "That's right," he says after two minutes of working out the problem. "Whose paper did you look at to find the answer?"

"No one's paper Mister Brutus," I say innocently. "Are you trying to accuse me of something?"

"I'm not trying to, I am, Son. That's impossible. If it takes me two minutes to solve it on paper, it should take you double or triple to do it in your head. You must've copied off of someone. Now tell me, or risk getting an hour and a half added to your detention."

"Look, Mister Brutus, I have a headache, so I'd love to keep conversations to a minimum. I didn't copy off of anyone, and you know I'm telling the truth. It's not my fault you cant keep up with the intelligence of young people these days. Lets compare Advanced Algebra 3 grades. Oh wait, I forgot you didn't take AA3 in school. Even then, you had a 89.7% in your class if I remember correctly. What's my current grade so far? A 105.97% you say?" after he remains quiet for a while, I continue to talk. "My point exactly," and with that, I finally sit down.

After AA3, I made my way to Mechanical Art. I barely made it out alive after Mister Brutus decided he'd give us four different pages of homework for my outburst, and I got my detention extended. It is now from 4:30 to 7:15.

In Mechanical Art, I just continue my horrible drawing of a SPR 2018. It's pretty good if you ask me, but it's terrible according to the teacher Ms. Inumanum-Mortem. She's horrible. She's been bitter ever since her husband left her 37 years ago. No wonder her name means Brutal Death in Latin, she will literally give you just that if you even mention her husband.

After finishing my SPR 2018, I hand it in to the teacher, and walk out of the class to enjoy a free period at the library. The only place Advanced students are allowed to go. I cant really complain, as it's a Library. Libraries are _always_ quiet. Just what I need for my throbbing head. I knew I shouldn't have drunk the whisky yesterday. But it was a huge temptation.

As I walk in, I hear Mr. Beetee talking to someone. I can hear bits and pieces of their conversation. "What if… Do you think… Someone's listening." I pick up my pace and go sit down at the Two table. Thirteen tables are in the Library, as well as in the cafeteria. Thirteen tables, Thirteen Streets, _Four_teen Districts. Citizens of the Capitol go to a different school. One that is Directed by Principle Snow, the most feared man in the whole of Panem. I've heard his breath wreaks of blood, to match with his blood red lips.

"Hello, Mister Hawk," Mr. Beetee says cheerfully. "I suppose you're hear to sleep?" He knows me so well, its scary in fact.

"Yes, Mr. Beetee," I say sort of childishly. "I have a headache," I continue in the childish voice. It's kind of a joke between us two. One time, I was sleeping in the Library, and I wasn't woken up until Class 5. Which was over in the next four minutes. Mister Beetee said he tried waking me up, but my reply was 'No, Principle Coin' in a squeaky, childish voice. Sort of like Amanda's voice from my favorite movie Matilda. Another story about Matilda, this one's much more funnier. One time, when I was little I started sleep walking, and my mom went to get me back to bed. She asked me the same question she always did to wake me up. "Who are you?" I replied with "I'm Matilda. Matilda Wormwood." She said "Who am I?" and I said "You're Miss Honey silly!"

"When don't you, Mister Hawk?" he crosses his arms, and walks over to where I'm seated. "I think you can do more productive things if you wanted to, don't you?"

"Yes, Mister Beetee. _If _and when I _want_, I can be very productive. Just not now," I say softy, still with the squeaky voice.

"Be productive now, help Gale with something for the school paper," he says, throwing a stack of white papers at me.

"Mister Beetee," I say confused, turning my head sideways like a curious dog. "Shouldn't there be words on this paper? I mean, there's always letters and such in my morning newspaper," I say stupidly.

"Cato," Mister Beetee goes serious," that's your job. It's your turn to do the paper."

"Papier," Miss Trinket, the French teacher, says, announcing her arrival to the two, three, of us. "Donnez-moi un peu de papier."

"Dans le coin, Pink," I tell her. "Ne prenez pas tout cela, cette fois encore. Papa ne veut pas aller faire du shopping pour les fournitures jusqu'au mois prochain." In short, I told her to stop taking all the paper.

She gives me a disgusting look, the one where she scrunches her nose up and raises half of her lip. " -je vous voir en classe aujourd'hui?"

"Oui, as much as I hate it. I have to go," I reply. I've never liked French class. Not even when we had our old teacher Madame Stanley, and she was fun. I had fun in her class, just not fun for the class. If you get what I mean.

"Cato, I didn't know you could speak French." And that's when I notice the other kid's right next to me. I feel weird when he sits down. "What do we start on? I have something from the Girl's Volleyball team, they are holding replacement trials. You know, since Jen moved last week. Mister Beetee wants me to promote his Mechanical Engineering class, it's set to start next week. And I have something from-"

"Look, Gale. Obviously, you don't know how I roll, so I'll explain it to you. I have a headache all the time, so I prefer to keep conversation down to a minimum, no conversation if possible. I don't _do_ charity work a.k.a _this. _I'm not generous, so I don't know who told you that. So I'd like it a lot more if you could just do this yourself, and leave me be. I am trying to sleep."

Gale looks shocked, his mouth open agape. He constructs himself back together, to tell me say, "Ok, Cato. This is how it's going to work. _We_ are going to do this news paper bullshit. _You_ are going to help me do it. I don't care how much you don't want to do it. What I say is final. You wont argue with me, you wont try to get out of this, you will do it. Even if I have to force you to."

His response leaves me looking stupid. I wasn't expecting this coming out of Rosethorne's mouth.

"Look, Rosethorne-" I say before being interrupted by Gale.

"Hawthorne."

"I didn't ask, _Rosethorn_. I don't take orders from anyone. We both know who's the smartest one here, so I get to decide what is done, and what isn't done. By who. Don't order me around 'Cuz I wont follow them. I am the ring leader, and you are the tamed tiger. I am the Alpha, and you are the Beta. Got it? Get it. Good." I'm surprised I sound so cold and monotone. "Now, you do the work, and I'll sleep."

Gale moves back, and then forward, contemplating what to do. He looks as if he's going to walk away, but then moves closer to me. He takes me by surprise when he grabs my hand. I feel strange, as he guides my hand to the mouse pad, and swipes it so the Grape Laptop wakes up. I like the way his hand feels. It feels rough, and strong. Wait, since when did I feel these things? No, its probably something different. Yeah, not like this at all. This isn't me. But is it? No, I'm sure it isn't. Yes, it definitely isn't me.

"You're sweating, Dude," Gale says. "Need a towel?" he jokes.

Why am I sweating? It's hot. Yeah that's it. But it wasn't hot until he got around me. I usually sweat when I'm nervous. But what am I nervous about? There's nothing to be nervous about… is there? No, most definitely not. Definitely not nervous. I have nothing to be nervous about. Oh great, I'm babbling. I only babble when I'm nervous. Yes, I am most definitely nervous. Why do I keep saying 'definitely'? Definitely not a word I use on a definite daily basis.

"Cato, are you there?" asks Gale as he waves his hands over my face. "You zoned out, you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah… I'm okay. There's nothing wrong with me. If there was, I'd know. You know, 'cuz no one knows you better than yourself. It's a proven fact. The only person who knows you better than yourself is God. Speaking of God, do you believe in him? I don't. It's just something I don't get. I don't accept the fact that's god is everywhere. That means we're somewhere in his body. Because for him to be everywhere, we have to be inside of him. That way he's everywhere we are. Are you hot? Or is it just me? It's just me isn't it?" Oh great. He probably things I'm a babbling senseless, idiot.

"Dude, shut up," he laughs. My god, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles. "You babble too much, have you seen a doctor-ist? I don't know what kind of babblering people go to."

I laugh, because he's just so damn funny. "Is babblering even a word?" I question.

He stops to think, but cant come up with an answer. "Just go to Papers," he says, taking hold of my hand once more to open Papers. He types babblering in, and starts to talk. "It's not a word, you think babblering and blabbering are the same thing? They sound similar enough."

"I honestly don't know. Your hand is warm," I say, before he has a look of disgust on his face.

"Duuuuude! That's _so gay!" he says, before letting go of my hand, and walking out of the Library, to god knows where. There's still five minutes left in this period, and the cafeteria is only open to teachers right now. Did I say something stupid?_

_A/N: The chapter itself has 2511 words, a lot less than I thought it did. But, do you like it so far? I think I'll start a new update list for the rest of my stories, that way I'll be organized. Also, I'm starting eight grade pretty soon, two weeks exactly so I'll try to update as much as I can. If I do update, it will probably be around 4:20-6:00 pm ET, or 10:00- 10:45 pm ET. So the update schedule is as follows:_

_1. Scars( which I just posted.)_

_2. Figure Me Out_

_3. Tell Me That You Love Me_

_4. Soul_

_5. Hunger Games: Gale_

_Oh, and AllenCampbell, if you're reading this, can you post the second chapter of your novel in English? I read the first and cant wait for more! You have yourself a huge fan!_

_P.S: Review? Reviews make my world go round. You don't want me to die do you? ;(_


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